


My Reason for Fighting is Freedom, My Reason for Living is You

by Pantherheart



Series: Shoot Week 2017 [1]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: 2017, 5x10 fix-it, A lot of lines of dialogue from the episode, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, ROOT LIVES, Shaw is very protective of Root, Shaw threatens to shoot some people, and Bear is too, and so is Shaw, because canon sucks and Root cannot be killed, but I added a lot of my own too, but they probably deserve it, she is mandatory to the world, shoot week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-03 07:49:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10962876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pantherheart/pseuds/Pantherheart
Summary: MY FIRST TIME PARTICIPATING IN SHOOT WEEK!!! I'M SO EXCITED, YOU GUYS HAVE NO IDEA!!!!!---SHOOT--->Confused, Harold turned his gaze to John. “Mr. Reese, what’s going on?"“We have two new numbers,” John informed him.“Whose?”“Yours. And Root’s.”





	My Reason for Fighting is Freedom, My Reason for Living is You

“Good morning, Miss Groves,” Harold greeted as he came down the stairs into the subway station. “How’s Miss Shaw fairing?”

“Great.” Root gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Harold frowned. “How’s she really fairing?”

The smile dropped from Root’s face as she watched him with sad, tired eyes. “It’s gonna take some time.”

“Is there anything else the matter?”

Root was silent a few moments before answering. “We finally have open access to the Machine and… now you’re planning to close it. Go back to talking in numbers.”

“Unless you’ve added telepathy to your long list of talents,” Harold replied, “there is no way that you could have known that I chose today to end our dialogue with the Machine.”

“You built her to predict people, Harry. And she’s very good at it, starting with you.”

Harold blinked, but said nothing.

“She respects your decision,” Root continued. “She believes in you so much.”

“You don’t agree.”

“You built God, Harry. Who am I to question your judgement? Or Hers? But we’re gonna loose. You know that.”

Harold’s face grew somber.

“We have the most powerful ally in the world, but you’re to high-minded to let Her help us.” Root gave him a mockingly cheerful grin. “So we’re gonna end up the most principled corpses in Potter’s Feild.”

“We’ve lived so far,” Harold told her.

“We’re not living,” Root countered. “We’re surviving. We’re human. Eventually, we’ll make a mistake and…” Root glanced into the subway car where the Machine was switching between several different security cameras’ views. “She’ll die, too.

“I know why you didn’t give Her a name. You don’t name something you may have to kill. You had to kill the first 40 versions of Her but like it or not, Harry, She’s your child! And She’s gonna die. Unknown. Unmourned. She’ll simply vanish without a trace. And you couldn’t even give Her a real voice to ask you if it needs to end like this.”

Harold considered that for a few moments. He understood where Root was coming from when she said that, but he did not quite agree with her.

“I didn’t give the Machine a name because… I imagined that, one day, it might wish to choose one for itself. And the system doesn’t have to be open to be given a voice.”

Harold made his way into the subway car and took a seat at the monitors. He turned back to look at Root. “Who’s voice would you prefer?”

Root stood in the doorway to the subway car. “She’s a big girl. Like you said, let Her choose.”

Turning back to the computer, Harold started typing. “I’m locking us out of the system. As for a voice, we’ll see what She chooses.”

\---Shoot--->

Harold was in the middle of listening to one of his students rant to him about how they deserved a better grade than a B- on their term paper when the door to his office barged open, revealing John and Root.

“Office hours are over,” John said, his usually calm voice now laced with urgency.

The student looked over at the new arrivals, annoyed. “Professor Whistler was just about to change my grade.”

Root grabbed the paper out of the girl’s hand and took a quick glance at it. “This paper is a C- at best,” she threw the paper unceremoniously on Harold’s desk. “And that man is not your Professor. He’s an architect of the future.”

Confused, Harold turned his gaze to John. “Mr. Reese, what’s going on?”

“We have two new numbers,” John informed him.

“Whose?”

“Yours. And Root’s.”

Harold stared at John in utter shock.

If both his and Root’s numbers were up, then…

His thoughts were interrupted by his stuuent speaking up again. Harold had almost forgotten she was there.

“Excuse me, what about my grade?”

“You failed.” John nonchalantly took out his gun and the student gasped, her eyes widening in fear as she scrambled backwards.

Harold stood up, looking between Root and John in concern. He wanted to say something about proper etiquette, but knew now was not the time. So, he let it go.

“Sorry, Harry.” Root didn’t sound sorry at all. “Professor Whistler’s taking an early retirement.”

Looking out the window of his office, Harold could see two Samaritan operatives coming down the hall. John moved to the doorway and shot both in the kneecaps. They fell to the ground, clutching their knees and groaning in pain. In the corner, Harold heard his student - former student now, he supposed - gasp in fright, but he ignored her.

“Who wants to go quietly?” Root questioned, moving to stand beside Harold.

John looked over at the two of them. “Let’s get out of here before more of them show up.”

He led the way out of the office, gun raised and ready to take down any more Samaritan operatives that came in their way. Wordlessly, Harold followed after him, Root taking up the rear.-

\--Shoot--->

Elias looked up as John, Root, and Harold entered the safe house.

“Harold’s cover was blown and Root’s in danger, as well,” John informed him.

“And your cover, Detective?”

“Don’t know yet.”

“Which is precisely why you should put some distance between us, John,” Harold reasoned. “It's not worth the risk.”

The door to the safe house opened again and Shaw stepped inside, closing the door behind her. “Street’s clear. You weren’t followed.” She sent a menacing glare John’s way. “Why didn’t you tell me Root and Harold’s numbers came up?” she growled.

John watched her, unintimidated by her rage-filled death glare. “Because then you’d insist on coming with me and there would have been no one here to keep guard of the subway or the safe house.”

Shaw saw his reasoning behind that, but still did not like it. She shook her head, deciding yelling at John would have to wait, and went to stand beside Root. She studied her from head to toe, checking for any injuries.

“I’m ok, Sam,” Root reassured her girlfriend, stepping closer to Shaw and giving her a small smile. It seemed to help Shaw relax a bit, but she remained alert for any danger.

“Harold, Root,” Elias spoke up. “Do you have any idea how they found you?”

“Well, I never had a solid cover,” Root sighed. “So it wasn’t hard for Samaritan to find me.”

“I, on the other hand, don’t know,” Harold answered.

“This place might not be safe, either. We have to grab whatever we can and get the hell out of here. Fast.” John was filling a duffel bag with several guns, clips of ammunition, bombs, and - of course - his grenade launcher. “We have to go on the offensive. They can’t get to Root and Finch if we get to them first.”

The sound of the front door unlocking was heard and everyone whipped out their guns and aimed them towards the entrance.

But it was only Lionel.

“Yeah, I love you, too,” he snarked, shutting the door and walking towards them.

Everyone lowered their guns immediately.

Root ran a hand comfortingly down Shaw’s arm. “Grab some guns, Sameen,” she said gently. “You’ll feel better once we shoot some people.”

“Harold and Root can come with me,” Elias said.

“You think you can hide them from an all-seeing eye?” John asked.

“I used to be the all-seeing eye. I know just the place to keep Harold and Root out of sight.”

“No.”

Everyone turned to look at Root.

“I’m not running,” Root argued.

“Root, I swear to God-”

“No, Sameen. I’m not leaving you again. Not after what happened last time. I can’t loose you.”

The two women stared at each other, neither one backing down. Everyone else in the room shifted uncertainly, not wanting to get between the two lovers but knowing they were running out of time.

After what felt like hours, but was really only about a minute, Shaw rolled her eyes. “Fine. But you stay with me at all times, got it?”

Root gave her girlfriend an adoring smile. “There’s no place I’d rather be, Sweetie.”

Shaw opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the sound of screeching tires from outside. She glanced out the window to see a black unmarked SUV on the street, a squad of Samaritan agents filing out of it.

“Party crashers,” Shaw muttered. “Root and I will stay here, give them a proper welcome.”

“Sorry to miss the party, ladies, but we gotta go,’ John said, slinging the duffel over his shoulder and grabbing a gun from the table.

He made his way to the front door, Lionel trailing behind him. They left the safe house, Elias and Harold following after them.

\---Shoot--->

Root’s cochlear implant beeped and then she heard Harold’s voice say her name.

“Hey, Stranger. Just finishing up here.”

She glanced back at Shaw, who kicked one of the fallen Samaritan agents in the head, knocking him out cold.

“I’m afraid I’ve made a grave miscalculation,” Harold’s voice sounded extremely worried. “I went back to the place I took Grace on our first date. It had been ten years to the date that I bought her that first cappuccino.”

“Samaritan isn’t just watching everything we do now,” Root realized. “It’s monitoring everything we’ve ever done.”

“You said this morning we were just surviving. By then, my fate had been sealed. Please tell Miss Shaw none of this is her fault.”

“I will. And, Harry. Be careful.”

“I will do my best, Miss Groves. And you, please do the same.”

There was a beep and then the line went silent. Root made her way over to the couch where Shaw was sitting, cleaning her gun. She set her own weapon down on the table.

She sighed. “That was Harry.”

“I gathered. He think I’m the reason your guys’ numbers are up?”

“He knows your not. He slipped up. He went back to the place he and Grace had their first date.”

“Harold has a weakness.”

Root turned her gaze to Shaw, who hadn’t looked up from her gun. “We all do.”

Shaw stopped cleaning and lifted her head, still not looking at Root. “It’d be nice if we could go back. I guess none of us… has the life we want.”

“Actually, Sameen...” Root bit her lip, looking down at her hands resting in her lap. “I’ve been hiding since I was 12. This might be the first time I feel like I belong.”

Finally, she met Shaw’s eyes. They were filled with emotions Shaw could not put into words - fear, worry… love.  
Root gave her girlfriend a lighthearted grin and reached down to take her hand, entwining their fingers. She squeezed her hand gently and rubbed her thumb over Shaw’s knuckles.

Shaw blinked and leaned towards Root until thier lips met in a gentle kiss, full of love and all the things Shaw couldn’t say out loud.

Slowly, they pulled apart, resting thier foreheads together. Root scooted over a bit on the couch so that her body was pressed against Shaw’s side. She closed her eyes and breathed in her lover’s unique scent, letting it wash over her. She savored the feeling of being so close to Shaw, feeling so safe and loved, because she knew that at any moment, it could all be over.

Their quiet moment was broken, once again by the screeching of tires.

Reluctantly, the two women pulled apart. Root grabbed her gun and stood, Shaw shaking her head in disbelief and annoyance.

“These guys don’t quit,” she muttered.

\---Shoot--->

Root and Shaw found out from the Machine that Samaritan had found Elias and Harold. Tragically, they’d killed Elias and taken Harold. But with the Machine’s help, they’d found out where they were and gotten there just in time to intercept the team of Samaritan agents about to leave with Harold.

Screeching to a halt at the intersection, the two women stepped out of the car - Root armed with her signature two hand guns and Shaw, with an assault rifle. They used the car doors as cover and started shooting at the enemy agents. Around them, civilians screamed and ran for cover.

As she was prone to do in the middle of dangerous situations, Root started a conversation with Shaw - all the while, continuing to fire at the Samaritan operatives.

“So, I was thinking about your thing.”

“My thing?” Shaw echoed, confused.

“The whole ‘I’m crazy and the world’s just a simulation’ thing. It’s a little like when Harry had me locked up and I was questioning everything.”

“Can we talk about this after the whole lethal shootout thing?”

“There’s no time like the present, Sameen. Besides, if this is just another simulation, who cares if we die?”

They ducked down closer to the ground to avoid the falling glass as the windows of the doors shattered.

“Anyway,” Root continued, unfazed, “Schrodinger said, at its base level, the universe isn’t made up of physical matter. It’s just… shapes.” She gave Shaw a loving smile. “I thought that might make you feel better.”

“Seriously?” Shaw couldn’t help a small smile at Root’s words. She knew her girlfriend was honestly trying to make her feel better. It’s just… in the middle of a gunfight might not be the best time to do that.

Root motioned to Shaw that it was safe to move. They stood and Shaw shot a stream of bullets in the direction of their enemies, ensuring they couldn’t shoot them while they were out in the open. Hurrying over to the nearest car, the two women took cover behind it. Once they were safe from flying bullets, Shaw started reloading her weapon and Root started up her monologue again.

“A shape, you know? Nothing firm. What it means is the real world is essentially a simulation, anyway.”

Finally, Shaw looked over at Root, a look of utter confusion on her face. “You are the last person I should have confided in about this.” She stood and sent another hail of bullets their enemies’ way.

Once she knelt back down, Root continued, “I like that idea. That even if we’re not real, we represent a dynamic - a tiny finger tracing the line of the infinite. A shape. And then we’re gone.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better? I’m a shape.”

Root smiled, her gaze trailing over Shaw’s body before meeting her eyes. “Yeah.” She smirked. “And, Darling, you got a great shape.”

Shaw shook her head, not at all surprised by her girlfriend’s antics. Hitting on her in the middle of a gunfight. It was so like Root. And Shaw wouldn’t change her for the world.

That’s why she didn’t even try to hide the smile that spread across her face at that moment. She gave a short laugh. “I swear to God, you flirt at the most awkward times.”

Root grinned. “I know.”

They exchanged more gunfire with the Samaritan operatives before Root caught Shaw’s attention again. “Listen, all I’m saying is that if we’re just information… just noise in the system… We might as well be a symphony.”

Staring into Root’s loving eyes, Shaw felt an adoring grin of her own form on her lips. The two then stood up, side by side, taking aim at the operatives and taking them down one by one.

Root moved around Shaw to get to the SUV Harold was in. Shaw covered her with another hail of bullets aimed at the Samaritan agents.

When Root reached the SUV, she opened the door and gave Harold a smirk. “Hey, Harry, need a lift?”

Harold followed closely behind Root as they ran back to where Shaw stood. They made their way to the car - Root getting in the driver’s seat, Shaw in shotgun, and Harold in the backseat. Root whipped the car around and sped off down the road just as another SUV of Samaritan operatives arrived.

\---Shoot--->

Root drove them through the city streets, following directions the Machine gave her through her cochlear implant. They were being followed by a Samaritan vehicle, whose occupants wouldn’t stop shooting at them - not that Root, Shaw, or Harold expected them to.

“These guys are really pissing me off,” Root muttered.

She glanced back at Harold in the back seat. “Can you get me the .338?” she asked, adjusting the rear view mirror.

Harold looked at her, confused. “.338?”

Shaw whipped around in her seat and grabbed the specified gun.

“Thanks, Sweetie.” Root pulled her hair back into a ponytail, securing it with a hair tie she’d had around her wrist.

She continued to swerve in an attempt to avoid the bullets being fired at them from a high power machine gun. She pressed a button on the middle console to open the sunroof.

“Root,” Shaw asked cautiously. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Don't worry, Sameen. I got this,” Root said nonchalantly. “He’ll be done in 3… 2…”

The machine gun fire stopped and Root stood on her seat, her head and shoulders going through the open sunroof. She scrabbled for a foothold on the steering wheel, and managed to hook her boot over it.

Using her foot to steer, Root looked through the visor of the .338 long-distance assault rifle. She aimed for the front grill of the car and fired. The car swerved and slammed into an empty vehicle on the side of the road, causing it to explode and flip over, both cars then erupting in flames. There was no way anyone in that car survived.

“Amateurs,” Root muttered, clambering back into the car. She handed the .338 to Shaw, who was now staring at her girlfriend in awe.

Root glanced over at Shaw as she took the wheel again and started driving, turning onto a side street. “You alright, Sweetie?”

Shaw blinked. “Ok, that was even hotter than the two-guns-at-once thing.”

Root smirked. “I try.”

\---Shoot--->

Shaw was the first one to notice the sniper. Jeff Blackwell, one of their old numbers - now one of Samaritan’s lackeys - was stationed on the balcony of an apartment building, sniper rifle out and aimed at…

“Root!” Shaw yelled, alarmed.

Acting without a second thought, Shaw took aim with the .338 at Blackwell through the windshield and fired. The bullet hit the man in the chest right as he pulled the trigger, offsetting his aim.

A bullet crashed through the windshield and Root cried out in pain. The car swerved and would’ve hit a tree if Shaw hadn’t reached over and jerked the wheel just in time to straighten out the car. She pressed her foot down on the brake from the passenger seat and the car came to a screeching stop.

“Root,” Shaw clambered over the middle console to reach her girlfriend and she cursed.

Root was bleeding from a shot to the shoulder and thigh. The wound on her thigh looked to be a through and through, but the one on her shoulder had been caused by a 3.6 caliber bullet and there was no sign of an exit wound, which meant it was still in Root’s body. Even with her extensive medical knowledge, Shaw couldn’t come close to imagining the level of pain Root must have been feeling right then. Root was pale, her wounds were bleeding heavily, and her breathing was labored.

“Root?” Harold asked tentatively. “Are you alright?”

Shaw whipped around to face him, her eyes filled with deadly rage. If looks could kill, Harold would be so dead that there wouldn’t even be a single atom left to mark his existence.

“Of course she’s not alright, Harold!” Shaw growled, her voice deadly calm. “She just got shot!”

Harold reeled back at her outburst. He’d seen Shaw angry before, but never this angry. He couldn’t even find the words to describe the level of rage he saw in Shaw’s eyes.

From the driver’s seat, Root whimpered, tears streaming down her face. “Sam,” she cried, her voice growing weaker.

Immediately, Shaw turned away from Harold, ignoring him to instead focus all her attention on Root. She slipped her hoodie over her head and touched a hand to Root’s face.

“This is going to hurt,” she said, her voice gentle - the complete opposite of what it had been when she’d snapped at Harold moments ago. “But I have to stop the bleeding.”

Weakly, Root nodded, her pain-filled eyes drooping.

Shaw pressed the fabric of her hoodie to Root’s injured shoulder. Root flinched and cried out at the pain the pressure caused, but allowed her girlfriend to continue.

“You know I always loved it when you played doctor,” Root tried to flirt, but between the effects of the pain and blood loss, it was not as Root-like as usual.

They heard police sirens ahead of them and two police officers approached the car, opening the doors. One took Harold by the arm, leading him to one of the cruisers and putting him in the backseat. Then the officer got in the driver’s seat and they drove away. The last thing Harold saw was Shaw carrying Root in her arms towards the ambulance.

\---Shoot--->

Shaw pressed Root close to her body, refusing the police officer’s offer to help Root to the ambulance. There was no way Shaw was letting anyone else touch Root.

Root’s grip on Shaw’s neck was growing weaker and she had to fight to keep her eyes open. “Sam, I’m tired.”

“I know, Root, but you have to stay awake.”

There was no response. Shaw looked down to see Root’s eyes had closed.

“Root!”

An EMT approached Shaw with a stretcher and she lay Root gently down onto it. She made to follow the EMTs onto the ambulance, but one of them stopped her.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but we can’t let you on the ambulence.”

Shaw gave him a glare even more terrifying than the one she gave Harold earlier. The EMT seemed unsettled, but didn’t back down.

“Either you let me on that ambulance,” Shaw growled, “or I will blow your kneecaps off.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“No,” Shaw shifted minutely, so that the gun in her hand was visible. “That isn't a threat, it’s a promise.”

The EMT gulped and stepped aside. “Uh, g- go ahead, Ma’am.”

Shaw tucked her gun into the waistband of her jeans and stepped onto the ambulance, the EMT following behind her. She saw him whisper something to the others and they all watched her wearily.

“I used to be a doctor,” Shaw told them. “So, here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to save my girlfriend’s life and you all are going to help me. Got it?”

They all nodded, saying nothing for fear of getting their kneecaps blown off.

And Shaw would do it, if she had to. If Harold were here, he would have told her it’s not ethical to shoot people - or threaten to shoot people - to get what you want. But when it came to Root’s safety, Shaw couldn’t give less of a shit about ethics. Anyone who stands in her way, gets what they deserve.

\---Shoot--->

When they got to the hospital, a doctor by the name of Madeleine Enright was waiting for them. She ushered Shaw into the surgery room without a word.

“Ernest Thornhill contacted me,” she told Shaw once the door closed behind them. “He said that a friend of John and Harold’s needed emergency medical attention. And that I was to assist you in surgery.”

Shaw nodded, not surprised. This wouldn’t be the first time the Machine had contacted Dr. Enright, under the alias of Ernest Thornhill, asking for medical assistance. Shaw looked up at the security camera in the corner of the room. The light blinked once, signaling the Machine was watching.

Turning her gaze back to Dr. Enright, Shaw said, “Let’s get to work.”

\---Shoot--->

It took 7 hours to stabilize Root and locate and remove all the fragments of the bullets in her shoulder and thigh. Much to Shaw’s horror, Root’s heart had stopped once, having been weakened by the torture she had endured when she was captured by Control. Luckily, she and Dr. Enright had gotten it to beat again and the surgery was successful.

Now, Root was lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to IV drips and morphine. The steady beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound in the room.

Shaw sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair beside Root’s bed, adorned in a white lab coat. Her gun rested on her lap and she watched the door intently for any unwanted visitors, like Samaritan’s goons. Or that creepy man-nurse with the beard who kept trying to hit on Shaw, even after she threatened to shoot him.

Maybe she should use Root’s taser to tase him in the balls? That would sure shut him up. Root would probably enjoy that, too. Shaw stored that idea in the back of her mind for a later date.

“Well, this is a pleasant sight to wake up to.”

Shaw looked over to see Root awake, watching her. She rolled her eyes. “You just woke up from surgery and the first thing you do is hit on me?”

“Of course. What else would I do?”

Shaw chuckled. She had a point.

“How are you feeling?” Shaw asked.

“Like I was shot.”

“Are you in any pain?”

“No, not right now.”

“Good.”

They were silent for a few minutes until Root spoke up again. “Is Harold ok?”

“The Machine broke him out of prison. He’s at the subway with John and Lionel.”

“That’s good,” Root’s eyes drooped closed. “I’m gonna go back to sleep now.”

“Ok.”

A few moments later, Root opened her eyes again. “Sameen?”

“Yeah, Root?”

“Where’s Bear?”

Shaw gave her girlfriend a small smile. “John is bringing him here. He’s ok.”

“Yay...” Root murmured, her eyes drifted closed again. “Wake me up when they get here?”

Shaw leaned over to place a gentle kiss on Root’s forehead. “Sure, Root.”

 


End file.
